Two Sides of the Same Coin
by CorrieFan23
Summary: My first fan fiction crossover! I hope you enjoy it and please review :-) x
1. Chapter 1

_**Hi! This idea suddenly came to me so I thought I'd write it down and share it with you all. It's just a one-shot but it's a crossover. I hope you enjoy it, please read and review! But be kind as it's my first fan fiction crossover :-) Thanks! x**_

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I haven't been here in a while. I try and avoid it if I can. The strong smell of this place will hang round for the rest of the day I guarantee it, stopping me from going about my normal day-to-day business. I can only describe it as a 'hospital smell'. A lemony sort of disinfectant lingers, clinging to your clothes for dear life. I've never been able to work it out. The nearest hospital is 10 miles away, that's a long way for a odour to travel.

I hate this place. It reminds me of a time I'd much rather forget. The day I told a bunch of strangers about what Frank did to me. Looking back, it still sends a cold shiver down my spine, a nauseous feeling rising in my throat.

_'A few weeks ago...I was...I was attacked. Quite badly assaulted. It was the most horrible thing, most frightening thing I've ever had happen to me and when I lie awake at night, going over and over it in my head, I start to thinking that maybe, maybe it was my fault.'_

I shake my head violently, trying to rid my mind of those horrible memories. I realise I must look slightly odd as everyone turns to stare at me. They're probably wondering why a smartly dressed businesswoman is in a place like this. We all fall apart sometimes. It's just after last time I swore I'd never return. Looks like I was wrong.

I check my phone one last time. No missed calls. Maybe he's got a flat battery or run out of credit? Or maybe he's got a string of punters? Who am I kidding? He left me a week ago. Seven whole days of feeling empty, feeling unlovable and seven whole nights of tossing and turning with only a bottle of vodka for a friend. It's wrong, I know, to depend on something so much but I still can't stop.

_'I don't know if I'm an alcoholic or not...'_

I guess I was wrong. I keep telling myself it's for the shock. Everything seemed to be going well between me and Peter. We were engaged for gods sake! How much more serious can you get? But then one morning I woke up and got the shock of my life. I'd have preferred coffee and toast like every other morning but I suppose women like me can only be lucky for so long until it's snatched away. It's not the first time and I'm learning now that it won't be the last.

Walking through the final set of double doors I consider turning and running straight back out on the street. The thing that stops me though, is something that shocks me. Two little boys sat outside my destination. I'm not the maternal type, definitely not. But seeing these children sat there, chatting amongst themselves and playing with their toys as if this is some sort of daily occurrence, stuns me to the very core. I find myself thinking back 30 years, to a situation quite similar to this. Me and my kid brother sat waiting for our mum to have her appointment. She never said what it was for but deep down we knew...

We might have been shut out of the room when we were here but each night we'd see her reach for the cupboard, searching for a bottle of vodka, or wine, or beer, whatever she could get her hands on really. Then we'd go to bed and hear our mother and father scream and shout, slamming the doors and throwing plates at each other. It became normal to me and my brother, so normal that the sound of the arguments actually helped us fall asleep. How messed up is that?

The oldest boy, who looks to be about 10 years old, drops his little games console on the floor and it lands by my designer heel. I pass it back to him, suddenly feeling quite sympathetic towards the two young children; sitting outside a room while their mother or father, or maybe their aunt or uncle, opens their heart to a load of strangers, determined to battle their demons. It's so tragic I could actually cry. I know how these boys feel. They don't deserve it. They're just kids. We were just kids.

As I stand back up, I notice the name on the front of the oldest boy's cap; Louis. Again, my thoughts are interrupted, this time by the murmur of voices in the room to my left. I turn my attention away from the boys, who seem more interested in their game than by me, and place my hand on the door handle. Taking a deep breath I tell myself to be brave, for once in my life it's time to face reality. I open the door as quietly as I can. I'm ten minutes late and the session has already begun.

A woman, similar age to me, is stood up, shifting from one foot to the other. I can see she's riddled with nerves and to be honest I feel the same. I walk over to the one remaining seat, my legs like jelly and I look up at the woman, waiting to hear her story. I can hardly believe it. I usually hate a sob story but I'm desperate to know what forced this woman down the path of self-destruction, especially with two young boys. At least I've got a valid excuse, I'm completely 100% alone, no family, no boyfriend and now no proper home. This woman seems to have it made, although I suppose you can't judge someone until you get to know them. I hate it when people judge me prematurely, it's the real reason very few people see the real Carla Connor.

I am snatched from my thoughts for the third time since entering the building, by the woman coughing nervously, trying to clear her throat.

_'My name's Lynda Block. I'm an alcoholic...'_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for the great reviews and because of your response to it I have decided to write some more :-) Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think by leaving a review, the more the better :-) Thank you x**_

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I watch her facial expressions closely. She no longer seems anxious, instead her eyes are a little wider and she falls silent, even though her mouth is open and ready for her words. She looks stunned. I'm guessing this is the first time she's admitted her problems, not just to a room of strangers but to herself.

Before she continues with her story, she pushes her chair out of the way and makes a dash for the door. I find myself following her, wanting to check she's alright. It's strange. I've never seen this woman before but I want to help her. I was lucky the first time I came here. I glanced to my right and saw Peter Barlow sat listening to me and that gave me the strength to carry on. Lynda has no-one, well except the little kids sat outside but she's obviously trying her hardest to keep her troubles from them.

I go into the corridor where Lynda is frantically trying to gather her son's toys together.

_'Can I help at all?' _I find myself offering. The factory girls would have a field day watching me this afternoon, all polite and shy. They'd think I'd had a personality transplant.

_'No thank you.' _Lynda shook her head, not even bothering to look at me.

_'You look like you've got your hands full.' _I say, passing her the car keys that had fallen from her grasp and onto the floor.

_'I'm fine.' S_he snatches them back and I swear I can see tears brimming in her eyes.

_'It's tough in there isn't it?'_

_'What would you know? Look at you, stood there in your designer heels and not a hair out of place.' _She hisses. I'm guessing she's jealous. I don't know why. Ok, I've got a good wardrobe but that doesn't change the fact I'm at an alcky meeting.

_'You should have seen me first thing this morning. It took me two hours to get myself looking half decent.' _I laugh, trying to make light of the situation.

_'Right...'_

_'Why don't we go back in there? We don't have to speak, we can just sit and listen apparently. These meetings are the only time my mouth stays closed.'_ I say, doing my best to make her smile. I don't know why I care so much but I suppose she reminds me of myself in many ways and all I ever want when I'm feeling vulnerable is someone to talk to me and make me feel better.

_'Yeah I did notice you like to talk.' _Lynda replies, a little moodily, snapping me from my thoughts.

_'Hey I like your cap.'_ I decide to turn my attention to her eldest boy.

_'Thanks.' _He replies, shyly, adjusting his cap.

_'I used to have one like that. Not as cool as yours but still similar. Mind you I had to write my name on it to stop it getting nicked.' _I explain, although I got no response from the boy or his mother.

The youngest boy, who must be around five or six years old, holds out a little toy car, showing it off proudly.

_'Oh...is this your favourite?' _I ask, to which he nods enthusiastically. He'd obviously been taught not to talk to strangers so I decide to fill the silence. _'My younger brother used to be into his toy cars. He had a massive collection.'_

_'You obviously come from money then? Those things are far too expensive for what they are.' _Lynda moans, rolling her eyes.

_'Oh no he used to take them from the other kids in his class or nick them from the local shop.' _I explain quickly, laughing at the shocked expression on her face._ 'See I told you you shouldn't judge me. My image doesn't match my past. It doesn't match my present either but hey, that's why I'm here.'_

_'Come on boys, time to go.' _Lynda grabs her son's hands, guiding them down the corridor as if she's just found out I'm a monster.

_'I'm Carla, by the way. Carla Connor.' _ I call after her.

_'Ok.' S_he replies, although she doesn't bother to look over her shoulder.

_'And people wonder why I put my walls up. When I do try and speak to people they treat me like you are now.' _I mutter, thinking she can't hear me but to my surprise she stops in her tracks and turns round.

_'Sorry, it's just not been the best day.' _She apologises.

_'It's only lunchtime.' _I tell her, glancing at my watch.

_'And it'll probably only get worse.'_

Once again I watch as Lynda turns on her heels and gently pulls her son's towards the double doors.

_'Wait!' _I shout, desperately trying to catch up with her.

_'I didn't come here to find a friend.' _She says, turning round to face me.

_'Then why are you here? Because I'm looking for a friend. I'm not exactly spoilt for choice back in Wetherfield and even if I was, I doubt any of them would understand.' _I explain, bowing my head. I hate to think of all the people I've loved and lost along the way. Maybe if I'd behaved better, done things differently, I wouldn't be alone. I wouldn't be finding comfort in the bottom of a vodka bottle. Or a whiskey bottle. Or a wine bottle. Or...

I'm taken from my thoughts again as Lynda turns away from me, making a third attempt to leave.

_'But you understand me. I know you do, even if you are being a selfish cow and walking off.' _I say, pulling her round.

_'There's a room full of people in there...'_

_'Take my card. Please? I think you could really help me and if you'll let me then I'll try and help you too.' _I plead, passing her my business card.

_'People aren't usually so forward.'_

_'I'm one of a kind, me.' _I grin, hoping she'll eventually warm to me.

Lynda pauses for a while, looking at the business card before taking it from my hands. She doesn't put it in her pocket, instead she cradles it in one of her hands, as if it's made entirely of gold.

_'Lynda Block, nice to meet you.' _She holds out her free hand, smiling warmly at me.

_'Carla Connor, you too.' _


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sorry it's taken so long to update! Hope there's still interest in this story and if so, you may want to re-read the story before reading this as it has been a while. Enjoy and review x**_

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I sit alone at the kitchen table. Well I say kitchen table, all the rooms sort of blend into another in this place. It's no bigger than the flat we shared together, in fact it's probably smaller, but sitting here all on my own it feels like the biggest place in the world. The loneliest place.

My hands tremble as I take a cigarette from the packet. I'm not a smoker. Not really. Me and Liam used to share one on the odd occasion as kids but it's never been an addiction. I suppose I'm lucky. Lucky? Me? Those two words never appear in the same sentence. Never have. Never will. It's like an unspoken rule.

I guess I never needed anything like nicotine and tobacco. I had love. First Paul then Liam, Tony, Trevor and then...Frank. The only thing is, I never realise until it's too late, that love is far more dangerous than the chemicals of a cigarette. I've never known pain like it.

I've been sat here, at this table, ever since I returned from my meeting yesterday. Shedding an ocean of tears, reminiscing instead of sleeping, replaying old memories and gazing at photos of happier times. I'll never do that again. I couldn't even if I wanted to. In a blaze of fury last night I tore each picture, each memory, into a million little pieces. I didn't want to be reminded of my past, the old me, the stupid, foolish mistakes I've made over the years. You see the thing about Carla Connor is she doesn't do normal. I never have. Not that I don't want to. It just feels impossible, like I'm incapable of a normal everyday life like everyone else. Carla Connor. Connor. I didn't think I'd be a Connor for much longer. I was about to become Mrs Barlow...

I shiver as I recall the moment I found out. Well, I say found out, it was more thrust upon me without warning. He said no. There we were, me in my beautiful ivory gown and him looking more handsome than ever before in his suit, about to exchange our vows when he froze, muttering only the word no. Of course once he'd started talking he couldn't stop.

_'It was a one off. It meant nothing, it means nothing.'_ Peter stammered, tiny beads of sweat lacing his forehead.

_'You liar!' _Tina shouted, standing up and making herself visible to me._ 'Do you wanna know where he was last night?'_

I looked at Ken and Deirdre, the only in-laws that had ever welcomed me into their lives. Their faces were the image of pure shock, unable to believe what was happening.

_'No he wasn't at Ken and Deirdre's. Look at their faces, they had no idea.' _Tina said and although my vision was blurred and my mind a mess, I knew what was coming.

_'We thought he was at Steve and Michelle's.'_ Ken said quietly.

_'It means nothing.'_ Peter said, turning back to me. The fact he was talking in present tense sends chills down my spine.

_'Where were you?'_ I asked firmly.

_'I checked into a hotel. I wanted to get a good night's sleep, prepare myself for today.' _Peter replied. His eyes darting round the room, his breath a little fast, a blanket of sweat covering his skin. Classic Peter Barlow signs of lying. I could spot them a mile off.

_'And what is today? Only I thought it was supposed to be our wedding day.' _I said, trying to keep my composure, to stop my legs from buckling underneath me.

_'Carla...' _Peter said,

_'Where were you?'_ I repeat, blinking furiously to try and rid the tears that threatened to fall.

_'He was with me.' _Tina revealed, her words ripping my heart from my chest, stealing every last breath from my body...

And that was it. The moment everything changed. Four words that sent my whole world crumbling to the ground, the metaphorical bricks bruising my skin, leaving me a hollow, broken shell.

It's strange really. I'd felt so happy, so calm and at peace for the first time since he left me, as I drove home from the meeting. Meeting Lynda was totally unexpected but it felt good. She tried giving me the cold shoulder but I know she felt the same as me. It felt like I had a friend, a real friend for the first time in ages.

I lost everything for Peter, gave it all up because he was everything I ever wanted. Michelle was the first person to properly understand, to love me and support me despite my flaws but I pushed her away. I had expected her to call but she hasn't, not even a text. I've obviously pushed her too far this time. I haven't stepped foot on Coronation Street since it happened. Since I was jilted. I can't take the humiliation. I feel like a victim. I don't do being the victim.

Normally Michelle would be hammering my door down, demanding I let her in, let her help. Not anymore. I'm all alone. Downing another glass of vodka, the sharp taste burning my throat, I think of all the people I've lost. Bloke after bloke, my mother, my little brother, my best friend...Peter...the love of my life...

The sound of my mobile ringing snaps me from my thoughts. I grab the phone, although I'm not entirely sure why. I've got nothing. I've got no-one. Putting the phone to my ear, I can't find the words to form a greeting. If my mum was alive she'd be beside herself...Carla Connor...Carla Donovan...lost for words. Now that is a first.

_'Carla is that you? It's Lynda. I was wondering if we could meet...'_


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